


Sun Showers

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Light Angst, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6511132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uncle Washington and Uncle Donut are very different people.</p><p>Untold history, through a child’s eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Good Luck, Charlie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401485) by [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/pseuds/Hinn_Raven). 



> For Steph's wonderful Donut sibling verse.
> 
> If you haven't read it, go now. TREAT YO SELF.

The geese were loose again.

    Charlie glared down at them, watching as they hissed and waddled on the ground beneath her. She was currently on the highest branch of the tree she could reach (the second highest was reserved for sheep) and when one goose craned its headback to his as her, she hid behind the branch.

    Uncle Wash told her that she had nothing to fear from the geese once, since they liked Jackie and Lauren so much. She’d believed him until a smaller one attempted to take off his thumb a day later.

    Since then, Charlie refused to trust the geese.

    “Hello, Kiddo!” Charlie peered around the branch to see Uncle Donut headed her way. He looked a little like Uncle Wash in the distance, the same cheekbones and hair, and it was only his voice and figure that identified him before he got closer. She honked at him to stay back but he ignored her, stepping through the crowd of geese. They stepped back to make way for the youngest Donut sibling, like he was their god, or an important political figure. When he got directly under the tree, he looked up at her and put his hands on his hips. “How’d you end up there, silly goose?”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed at being compared to pure evil. She honked at the geese who once again craned their necks up to hiss at her. It was only pride that kept her from hiding again.

    “These angels?” Donut shook his head. “They’re friendly!” He outstretched a hand and a goose, honest to god, began to nuzzle it.  Charlie began to wonder if her father lied to her when he claimed Donut had no magical powers.

    Charlie knew better than to ask Donut directly; he tended to misunderstand anything she said if it wasn’t in English. Even with one years of being on the farm, he still made plenty of mistakes. And nothing was worth dealing with his mistranslations which could be a word off to a whole sentence of disaster.

    “Come’on.” He held his hands up. “That branch can’t be comfy, can it? Don’t worry, Uncle Donut to the rescue.” He looked down at the geese and flapped his hands about. “Scurry, guys. You’re scaring Charlie.”

    The goose didn’t seem too concerned about that and Donut reached down to push one. “I mean it, you naughty things. Stop messing around. Jackie probably misses you anyway.”

    Donut couldn’t speak most languages, but Charlie was beginning to think he spoke goose, because on his word, the geese went scurrying off towards the lab where Jackie was hanging about. Donut clapped his hands together and reached up once more for the alien child. “Much better, huh? How about we get down from there and back on the ground. We can even go pet the kittens.”

It was enough of a sell for Charlie; the latest litter of kittens were perhaps the cutest that ever lived (they were not. She was biased). Careful not to trip, she climbed down so Donut could pluck her off the tree. He lowered her to the ground with ease and when she felt the grass under her bare feet, it made her realize how much she really hated being stuck in that tree, security aside.

“Better, huh?” Donut held out his hand. “Now cats?”

Charlie didn’t have to be asked twice. She grabbed Donut’s hand and followed his lead as they headed for the main barn. The sun was still high in the air, just a little past midday, and Charlie had to strain her eyes to look up at Donut.

It was odd, the six year old thought, that he was Uncle Wash’s brother. They were so different. Where Donut was loud, Wash was quiet. Where Donut was excited, Wash was exasperated. Where Donut grinned days on end, Wash frowned.

They were a study in contrasts. Charlie didn’t get that yet; six year olds weren’t accustomed to such large concepts. But she could see the basics all the same. Enough to be curious.

“Uncle Donut,” Charlie said, trying to keep her English as clear as possible. “Why are you and Uncle Wash so different?”

Donut looked down at her in surprise, his eyebrows rising. She thought he might not understand her until he spoke next. “That’s a bit of a weird question. We’re not that different.” He pointed to the freckles on his face and grinned. “We got the same freckles. Donut family trait. Aunt Beth used to say we had it patented.”

Charlie didn’t understand what patented meant, but she ignored it. “No. Not the freckles. He’s-” She struggled for the right word in English. “Sad. And you’re not.”

    Donut looked at her for a long minute before he let out a long sigh. He knelt down on the grass (Charlie feared for the sake of his jeans) so he could look her in the eye properly. “Uncle Wash isn’t sad.”  
Charlie opened her mouth to clarify but Donut cut her off. “I know what you meant to say. I’m just trying to figure out how to explain it. You’re impressionable.” He looked up at the sky before looking back down at Charlie. “You know your Dad? How he’s sad sometimes?”

    Charlie nodded. She still remembered her father’s nightmares, how he’d wake up screaming, how the color orange was banned from their hidden house just because it made him flinch if he saw it out of the corner of his eye. She remembered the quiet moments too, the ones that lingered, the ones Locus tried to hide from her. “Yes.”

    “And you know why he’s sad sometimes?”

    Charlie’s mandibles curled in. “He did bad things.”

    Donut’s mouth opened, then closed. “Well, yes. But not my point here.” He took a deep breath. “He’s seen bad things. Your Dad. Things he’s done and things he hasn’t done. And Uncle Wash has seen bad things too. Which is why he’s sad sometimes.”

    Charlie was quiet for a long moment as this information turned in her head. After a minute, she looked back to Donut.

    “Has Uncle Wash done bad things too?”

    Donut seemed to almost flinch. He reached for his side, then scowled, retracting his hand at once. It was the first time Charlie saw him look actually upset.

    “No,” Donut said. “He hasn’t.” He stood up and reached his hand back down for Charlie. “Okay. How about some kittens!”

    Charlie did not notice the resolute look in Donut’s eyes as they headed towards the barn.

* * *

 

This is true:

Objectively, in his life. Agent Washington has done bad things.

This is also true:

His brother has already forgiven him for all of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Wash was sad. But that was okay. Lauren had a plan.

Uncle Wash was sad. But that was okay. Lauren had a plan.

“Alright, troops!” She said, standing in front of the army she had assembled. They were in the loft of the barn, Lauren’s ideal meeting place, and the chalkboard she’s propped up against the wall of the barn was tilted at an odd angle. Shannon and Joel were sitting on the two largest bales of hay in the front, Joel’s legs swinging while Charlie and Junior lurked behind the two, Junior ducking a little to avoid hitting his head on the barn roof beams. “As an official Red team meeting, I would first like to clarify that the current ceasefire with our Blue enemy will only last until our joint mission is complete.” She looked to Junior. “Understand, Blue?”

Junior who was sixteen and a blue traitor just shrugged. It was good enough for Lauren. Charlie, who was neutral just looked confused. It was okay; she was a Red at heart. She just didn’t know it yet.

“Okay! I’m glad this is clear.” Lauren reached down for a piece of chalk and lifted it up. The dust got all over her fingers. “We are here today for an important operation that needs our powers combined to work. It is necessary we succeed, less the farm itself is thrown into chaos.” In messy handwriting, Lauren wrote on the chalkboard, her audience cringing a little as the board squeaked. When she was done, she gestured to the writing, which was misspelled once or twice on some words. “Operation Un-Sad Uncle Wash.”

“Un-sad isn’t a word,” Shannon piped up. Shannon was nine, and had a thing about being correct.

“Is now.” Lauren wiped the chalk dust off on her jeans (something that would horrify Simmons later in the day). “So, Uncle Wash is sad. We’re making him un-sad.”

Junior had a look on his face that made Lauren feel a bit like a baby. “Lauren, it’s a bit more complicated-”

Lauren held up a finger. “That’s dirty blue talk. No smack-talking the mission.”

“Yeah, Blue.” Joel threw up some hay at the eldest child, sticking out his tongue. “Don’t smack talk the mission.”

“Right on.” The two dedicated reds gave each other a quick high five before Lauren turned back to the chalkboard. “Anyway, Uncle Wash has been sad. You’ve all noticed. Since the yelling happened at the big house that _someone_ won’t tell us about-” The entire crowd of kids, minus Charlie, all turned to glare at Junior who held up his hands. “And that is unacceptable.”

“The sadness or Junior keeping secrets?” Charlie asked. Lauren was able to understand most of her words now when she wasn’t speaking English, as long as she kept it simple.

“Both. But the sadness we can prevent. Junior being a Blue is out of our hands.” Lauren put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. “The plan is simple. We attack Uncle Wash with things that make him happy on all sides. Search and destroy sad. Joel-” She pointed at the youngest Caboose. “You are to hide cats in Uncle Washington’s room at all times.”

“Yes, Sir” Joel said, giving Lauren a salute. Lauren then pointed at Junior.

“Junior, you are talking Uncle Wash into town. To do Dad stuff or something. He seems to like that.”

Junior’s mandibles curled in. “Not bad, Red.”

“I’m never bad. Shannon!” Shannon looked up. “You are to distract Aunt Martha from running into Uncle Wash, since seeing her makes him sad again. Use everything you have.”

Shannon frowned, thoughtful. “Can I use Uncle Caboose?”

“Absolutely!”

Shannon pumped her fist in the air.

“Charlie.” Lauren used a more gentle tone for the alien child. She was still easily scared by loud noises. “Because you are the youngest, you are on hugging duty because it won’t seem suspicious. Three hugs a day. Mix up the times. Claim nightmares if you think he’s catching onto you.”

Charlie nodded before tilting her head, looking at Lauren. “What is your job?”

Lauren just grinned, turning back to look at the chalkboard, hands still on her hips.

“To tie it all together.”

* * *

 

Lauren approached Uncle Wash a week into the plan.

It seemed to be effective so far. Junior followed through on his part of the plan, dragging Uncle Wash out for shopping on Wednesday, much to the former Freelancer’s confusion. Wash still looked worn when he came back, but there was a small smile on his face that screamed progress. Joel was excelling in the cat plan, Uncle Wash often found in his room, somewhat shocked but covered in cats, and Shannon’s promise to bring in Caboose proved fruitful, the Blue cheering Wash up with some adventure involving bees. Charlie was sticking to her three-a-day hug schedule like a pro, and given Wash’s soft expression whenever Lauren caught the youngest putting it in action, he’d had yet to catch on.

Lauren knew giving the job to Charlie was better than giving it to Joel. Charlie was a softie. She hated seeing anyone upset if she could do something about it.

Lauren was the same way. She just didn’t like to admit it.

The Red cornered Wash sometime near the end of the week. He was eating lunch outside of the barn, sitting on the grass with a blank look on his face. A piece of toast was in his hand, something he had to make himself, and Lauren carried her own sandwich with her as she sat down next to him.

“Lauren,” Uncle Wash said, looking down at the seven year old with mild surprise. “You looking for someone.”

“Nope. Just you.” She took a bite of her sandwich and held it up towards her Uncle. “You want a bite? It’s grape jelly. A blue flavor.”

A smile sad smile appeared on Uncle Wash’s face. Lauren hated it. It was the only smile he had these days. Everything was tainted with sad. “You’re eating a blue flavor?”

“I knew I’d be eating with you. I thought I should follow Blue rules.” She took another bite and ignored the feeling of peanut butter sticking the the top of her mouth. “They’re worried about you.”

Uncle Wash looked at her, surprise evident on his face. “Who?”

“Everyone.” She licked some jelly off her fingers for taking another bite “I’d know. I’ve been spying.” And she had. The entire week, she’d been sneaking around the farm, making herself unseen, like she used to do when she lived somewhere else that was both too loud and too quiet. Observation was easier when people thought no one was watching. “Aunt Martha’s been trying to talk to you. I don’t think she knows what to say.”

“Lauren-”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Lauren looks up because this is the important part. She doesn’t know what happened in the big house, what the yelling was about, but she knows it has something to do with this. Because nothing makes anyone sadder than feeling alone. “I heard her say it. She rehearses to the bats.”

Wash was staring at her with wide eyes. Lauren took it as a sign to continue.

“Aunt Jackie’s been asking Grey about you too. I couldn’t understand most of it, cus she was using really big words, but she wants to help. With your brain, I think.” She took another bite of her sandwich and wished she’d gotten a red flavored jam, like strawberry. “And Aunt Mitch came by last night to talk to my Dads when they thought I was sleeping. Wanted to know who Maine was cus you’ve been having bad dreams about him. I don’t think they were really helpful cus Simmons sort of screamed. But she tried.”

Wash was still staring at her, the sad gone from his face entirely. It looked replaced by shock at this moment, but that was better than sad, so Lauren considered it a victory.

“So yeah,” Lauren took the last bite of her sandwich and licked her fingers. “They don’t hate you. If you were worried about that. At least, doesn’t seem like it.” She got up and wiped her saliva covered fingers on her jeans. “I don’t either, by the way. I think you’re pretty cool.” Wash kept staring at her. “Wanna come with me for another sandwich?”

After a long moment, Wash spoke. “Where did Grif and Simmons find you?”

Lauren just shrugged. “Through foster care. So? Sandwich?” She held out her hand.

When Wash got to his feet and grabbed it, there was no sign of sad on his face at all.

Another victory for the Red army.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naps are important

There was a general rule of thumb in the Tucker-Washington household; when the kids when missing, something was terribly, terribly, wrong.

It wasn’t that they weren’t good kids. They were great kids, terribly great kids, and Tucker, whenever he was feeling sappy, let himself feel thankful that his son had managed to grow up such a bright teenager with such protective cousins. 

The issue was that when left alone, the kids often forgot general rules of proper behavior. For Shannon, that often meant, heavy objects being thrown across large areas. For Joel, that often meant parkour off buildings far too tall for him to be leaping. For Charlie, the tree in the front yard was often where she ended up when left unsupervised. And for Lauren, well, anything was possible for the red team terror with too big a brain and the lack of age to understand “can” wasn’t the same as “shouldn’t.”

Junior, however, never got up to trouble when left alone. Because he was Tucker’s kid, and thus, in Tucker’s mind, mostly faultless except when it came to cleaning his room.

(Anyone who ever saw Junior dueling the scarecrows in the corn fields would argue otherwise, but what Tucker refused to listen to, wouldn’t hurt him).

The kids were at Tucker’s house for the day, and he turned the corner, looking for both the crowd of children they’d managed to acquire over the years and his goob of a boyfriend. When he heard Junior snicker, his stomach sank, and when he turned the corner, he expected to find something entirely destroyed.

Instead he was met with Wash, passed out on the couch, covered with sleeping nieces and nephews. 

“Hey, Dad, have you seen the..? Oh.” Junior walked up behind Tucker taking in the scene. Wash was taking up most the couch, a giant ball of ex-freelancer, his limbs sprawled everywhere. Joel was passed out on his stomach, the smallest of the bunch, his position probably gained through sheer stubbornness. His sister, equally asleep, was lying on the carpet, snoring a little. The carpet strands swayed with every breath. Charlie and Lauren were leaning against the foot of the couch, tucked together, and Tucker was pretty sure Charlie would wake up with her shirt covered in Lauren drool. 

“Guess it worked,” Junior whispered. Tucker turned his head.

“What?”

“They were worried he wasn’t getting enough sleep. So they mentioned cornering him to get him to nap. Something about preventing wake ups at all costs.” Junior looked at the floor. “They might have booby-trapped the place. I mean, not well, they are seven, but like-”

Tucker wasn’t really listening. He was thinking back to the days where he would to the same for Wash, telling the man to take a nap while he would keep anyone from waking him up. It worked well, in those times Wash looked more worn than usual.

Considering what happened with the news getting out and Martha’s outburst, the kids probably had the right idea. 

“Hey Junior, get my phone. I want photos of this.”

And with that Junior was off, leaving Tucker to watch the snoring heap of his family rest on.


End file.
